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Yuna remembers the first time Shane got hurt. It wasn’t even a month after he had joined the CHL. With how much larger the other kids were, Yuna should have been more surprised by how long it took to happen. But it was still so shocking, watching her child slam into the boards after an older boy bumped into him. She remembers seeing him fall, expecting to hear her baby cry out in pain. But he simply stood back up and skated with a renewed vigor towards the puck. He scored a goal within thirty seconds. That recovery didn’t stop the horrified gasp she let out that night, staring at the bruises blooming on his arms. But he didn’t seem to care, going about the rest of his night organizing his blocks and reading to himself.
That injury was the first of many.
Four teeth down. Three mild concussions. One serious concussion. Fractured ribs. Some sprained ankles. A few dislocated shoulders. For a sport as violent as hockey, it’s not that bad of an injury list.
That all changed during a Montreal vs Boston match one day in 2017.
Watching Marleau slam into her precious boy is something she will never forget. Sitting on her couch in Ottawa, hot tea in hand, she watched as Shane crumpled to the icy ground like a ragdoll thrown to the floor. She could vaguely hear her mug hit the carpet, the thunk of it reverberating like her sons skull had on a rink over two hours away from her.
The Hollanders were speeding towards Shane before the EMT’s got him into the ambulance.
-
Walking into her son room, Yuna’s breath hitches so hard that she is almost sent into a coughing fit. He looks pathetic in the hospital bed, nearly as white as the sheets. He is hooked up to an innumerable amount of machines. The pinging of his heart monitor and the oppressive smell of the antiseptic swirl together in her head, an overwhelming cacophony that makes her want to cry.
David steps forward, hand already reaching out to carefully touch Shane. He is trembling. He settles his palm on top of the cast. He seems enraptured by the rise and fall of his boy’s chest.
Yuna slowly glides into the room, unexpectedly graceful in the presence of such a horrific sight. She moves to stand behind her husband, placing a reassuring hand on his upper back. She doesn’t reach towards Shane, all too aware that touching his limp extremities will send her into a blubbering mess. Instead, she leans forward, burying her face into the back of David’s head. She breaths in the scent of his cologne and worry, both cloying in her nose. It’s better than the sterility of the hospital itself, so she stays still until the concept of seeing her injured son doesn’t send her into an endless panic.
They remain suspended in this moment for nearly an hour. Her knees start to hurt, but the idea of sitting down and staring at Shane makes her lungs burn and heart ache.
Her husband suddenly jolts, nearly bashing his head against her face. She quickly focuses on Shane, while David explains, just a bit too loudly, “He twitched! Son, are you with us? You are in the hospital. You are okay-“ he continues to crone out palliative information, trying to coax him awake.
Shane lets out a small grunt, eyes flickering beneath his lids. David squeezes his hand harder, a grounding action for the both of them. With a quick, sharp inhale, Shane’s eyes shoot open, unfocused and wet.
Finally, seeing his eyes are open, Yuna lets her tears begin to fall. Her relief is palpable.
“-ya?” Shane mumbles, voice like gravel. Hearing the choked out sound makes Yuna smile so wide she feels her cheeks cracking.
“Shane, can you hear us?” Yuna asks, moving from behind David to stand next to him. Her sons head rolls to his left, facing away from the two of them. He looks nervous.
“La?” He asks, louder. He is starting to seem scared, so she places her hand on his shoulder, trying to bring his attention to her.
“Shane, we are right here. Your parents are right here. You are safe, you will be okay, don’t worry,” David says, eyes flickering between their son and the “Call Nurse” button. Sensing her husbands silent question, she slams her palm into the red button. The loud noise seems to jolt Shane even more.
“Lya? Where? Okay? La? Roz?” He repeats, heart monitor increasing at a rapid pace. He is breathing heavier, and by the way his face is pinching, it is not comfortable. Yuna presses the button again, feeling frantic. “Ya? Roz? ‘M okay. Where’s my ‘Ya?”
She watches as tears begin to fall down his face. Yuna can’t remember the last time she had seen Shane cry. It must have been back before he was an adult. She presses the button a couple more times, hoping the nurses will finally get off their asses and help Shane, who is now attempting to get out of the hospital bed. David stands up and starts pressing lightly on his chest, trying to keep Shane from agitating any of his injuries.
What proceeds is the longest thirty seconds of her life. Shane refuses to calm down, only repeating what she assumes is a name and struggling against her husbands hold. She nearly cries harder with relief when she sees a nurse rush in. Upon seeing how distressed her patient is, the woman runs to a side table and takes out a needle and vial. With practiced precision, she quickly loads up the syringe and presses it into his arm. It takes a few more seconds of struggling, but, finally, he goes limp once again.
-
He is still unconscious when Hayden enters three hours later. She can see her sons best friend relax upon seeing Shane.
Hayden stares at him for a few minutes. Neither David or Yuna attempt to make small talk, instead also looking at their son, so meek in his hospital bed.
Finally, the boy walks over to them, sitting down on an uncomfortable hospital chair at the foot of Shane’s bed. Upon settling, Hayden puts his elbows on his knees and bows his head, letting out a weathered sigh.
“Jackie and the kids say hi. They want to give their best to Uncle Shane,” he says, voice cracking slightly. Yuna can feel a wry smile flash across her face. It’s a small comfort, being reminded of her sons strong connection to the Pike family. The knowledge that he has been by Shane’s side throughout all of these years has allowed her to rest easy.
“I’m sure he will like that,” David replied with a soft smile. Yuna nods absentmindedly.
“Has he woken up yet?” Hayden inquires, eyes not leaving the tiled floor.
“He did, yes,” Yuna starts, “but he was not making a lot of sense. Kept trying to say something, ‘La’ I think. I don’t know, Shane was saying he was okay though.”
Suddenly, Hayden’s head shoots up, eyes wide. “Fuck! Lily.” He starts patting his pockets, looking for something. His brows furrow in confusion, and he looks at the Hollanders frantically.
“Do either of you have Lily’s number? I think I forgot Shane’s phone in my car,” he asks looking distracted.
Yuna and David turn to one another in confusion. Neither had ever heard of a Lily. “Who… who is Lily?” David asks slowly. Hayden’s head turns sharply to look at them again.
“Fuck,” the boy scrubs his hand against his unshaved face, “I should have known he wouldn’t have told you.” He pinches the bridge of his nose with obvious stress. “Lily is- well. He meets up with her when we play in Boston. He never talks about her. Denys she exists even as I watch him text her,” Hayden’s exhaustion seems to have doubled.
“She’s a puck bunny?” Yuna asks. Hayden grimaces.
“I…I don’t think so. They only meet in Boston, sometimes Montreal, but he texts her constantly. But he never says anything about her.”
Yuna sits quietly with this information. Her Shane has a secret girlfriend. One he hasn’t told anyone about. “How long have they been talking?” She hears David ask.
“A long time. A really long time. I gave up asking about her two years ago,” Hayden looks at them nervously. Yuna feels as though Marleau has checked her. A secret this massive.
“Well, I guess we should call her,” she hears herself say, a faux sense of calm about her. She doesn’t have time to spiral. Shane’s secret girlfriend deserves to know he is alive.
-
The three of them stare at the offending piece of technology. David had typed in the passcode, and now the screen sat on its homepage. She wonders if Lily is why Shane made the two of them swear to only to use the passcode in an emergency.
Hayden finally reached out, taking it from the bed. Yuna made a dissatisfied noise, involuntarily. Hayden looked at her guiltily.
“I’m sorry, I have seen their texts. I don’t think you should,” he waved his hands, flush taking over his face. David lets out a surprised ‘huh,’ while Hayden opens the iMessage app. His eyes widen.
“Okay… wow she is worried,” he comments. Yuna feels a flash of something she can’t name. It’s not positive.
With a deep breath, Hayden presses the call button and puts it on speakerphone. The phone barely rings once before it picked up.
“Shane? Shane, are you okay? Where are you?” A frantic, accented, decidedly male voice cracks through the speakers.
The trio look up, eyes wide. No one speaks.
“…Shane?” the man asks, worry oozing through each letter.
“…Lily?” Hayden finally answers, confusion clear in his tone.
Instead of answering, Yuna hears Lily take a sharp breath. The three of them wait for Lily to respond, but he doesn’t.
“Hi, this is Yuna Hollander, Shane’s mom,” she finds herself saying, “we just wanted to make sure Shane’s, ah, girlfriend knew he was alright.” She is trying her best not to fidget, confusion electric throughout her body.
He still doesn’t respond.
Hayden’s brows are furrowed, staring at the phone with an intensity she has only seen on the ice. He looked like he was trying to piece something together.
“I’m, uh, Shane’s dad,” David states. “He is out of surgery. Broken collarbone and a concussion, but he will be okay.” The man on the other end lets out a shaken exhale.
“He’s asking for you,” Yuna finally says, “kept asking for his ‘La.’”
That statement seems to knock something loose in the man. He lets out a sharp sob. The noise sounds painful. It startles Yuna, and she flinches away from the phone.
They listen to Lily cry for a few seconds, all three of them struck dumb. Suddenly, the line goes completely silent. Yuna thinks, for a second, that he has hung up. But the call still ticks on. She can only assume he muted himself.
Hayden continues to look at the phone with harsh contemplation.
“We are at Montreal General, room 84. You should come by, he wants to see you,” David says, after a moment of silence.
Lily does not unmute himself. Instead, a text pops up at the top of the screen. Hayden taps it, and it brings up the their messages. The call remains connected.
Lily
He would not like that
We cannot
I am sorry
I want to be there
I cannot
Yuna looks at the message with stunned confusion. The cat is out of the bag. Shane’s mysterious Lily is a man. Why the hesitation?
Before anyone can comment on the messages, Shane begins to shift, making a few noises. Yuna is suddenly standing, hovering so she is the first thing he sees. She hopes that immediately seeing her face might stave off any panic. She hears the pinging of text messages coming through Shane’s phone, but she doesn’t pay it any mind.
Soon, she is looking into the bleary eyes of her son. He seems calmer than before, sedatives still pumping through his bloodstream. His face split into a dopey grin.
“Mom! Hi!” he croaks out, a happy look on his face. His eyebrows draw together upon seeing the vestiges of distress in her expression. “Are you okay?” He asks, worry dripping in his tone.
Yuna lets out a bark of a laugh. Only her son would be concerned about others while he is laying in a hospital bed.
His eyes slowly drift to his right, where Hayden and David sit, relieved smiles beginning to bloom on their faces. Shane matches their expressions. He slowly moves his head to the left. His smile drops when he looks to the empty bedside.
“Where’s Ilya?” Shane asks, frowning.
Yuna feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach.
“Ilya?” Shane calls out, louder. His heart monitor begins to pick up, “Ilya, where are you?” Her son questions like a child. There are tears in his eyes, and he is pouting.
Looking behind her, she quickly takes in the baffled looks from Hayden and David. They both look aghast. Suddenly, from Shane’s phone, a voice comes through.
“Hollander?” Rings through the silent hospital room. The voice is unmistakable now. She is surprised she didn’t recognize it from the start. Ilya Rozanov, her sons rival, is on the other side of the call.
Like a switch, Shane’s face lights up.
“Ilya!” He exclaims, excitement clear in his tone, “Where are you? I can’t see you. Come here,” he demands, suddenly grouchy. If the whole ‘Rozanov is Lily’ thing wasn’t flashing through her brain, she would have been amused by his moody reactions.
Rozanov lets out a small, pained sound. Then, like he remembers himself, says, “I am on the phone. You are at hospital with Pike and your Mother and your Father,” he states, stressing the each of their titles.
Shane appears not to register the warning in Rozanov’s tone. “Yeah, it’s great! You should come and finally meet them,” he grins, looking at the three of them by his bedside.
“Hollander, you know I cannot do that,” Rozanov replies, distress still audible behind an attempt at indifference. Her sons eyes fill with tears, emotions flying around so fast that it gives Yuna whiplash.
“You don’t want to see me anymore?” Shane sniffles, sadness clear in his voice.
Rozanov lets out a string of what Yuna can only assume are Russian expletives. He seems to get control of himself after a long, deep breath. “That’s not… Hollan-“
Shane cuts him off mid sentence. “Why are you calling me that? I like it better when we use our names,” his tears have quickly stopped falling, and the pout is back on his face.
There is another pause. “Shane. I cannot.” He sounds genuinely distressed at this fact.
“But we were going to see each other tonight. Why is this different?”
“Hol- Shane, you know why this is different,” Rozanov replies, nerves poking through his flat affect.
Yuna’s head has not stopped spinning since the name “Ilya” exited her sons mouth. But here was Rozanov, echoing through the phone, attempting to disguise what is clearly some sort of secret friendship.
Or more, she startles. Hayden had implied the text contained messages a parent should never see. She hazards another look towards her sons friend. He looks nauseous and pale, a panicked look in his eyes. David has a similar parlor, eyes continuing to widen as the reality of the situation becomes increasingly clear to all of them.
This isn’t just a friendship.
“Come over. Mom, what room are we in? Ilya needs to come over. We miss each other, right?” Shane asks, worry creeping into his tone, like he is scared of what Rozanov’s answer will be.
“Fuck,” Rozanov says after a moment of startling quiet. “I… fuck.”
“Well not right now, obviously.” Shane states,“Mom, room number?”
Yuna stares at him blankly, not knowing how to answer. The innuendo does not go unnoticed. She is saved of any embarrassment when David simply says, “84.”
Once again, silence. Until Shane interrupts with a shout of “Ilya, come here!” He laughs cheerfully.
Rozanov lets out a long sigh. “I will be there soon.” He sounds resigned. Before hanging up, he asks, “Mr. and Mrs. Hollander? Pike?” He says the laters name with contempt, “Shane would not want questions. He is clearly on drug. Please,” Rozanov makes a noise. Yuna cannot even interpret what it might mean. She simply nods her head, taking the device from Hayden’s hand and hitting the end call button.
“Ha! Did you hear that? Ilya is coming to see me. I knew he loves me,” Shane states happily.
The resounding quiet rings after his words. No one dares speak after the statement.
-
It is only a few minutes later that Ilya Rozanov himself walks through the ICU door. It vaguely pings in her mind that the hotel is at least thirty minutes away, but she can’t be bothered to comprehend what that might mean.
He has drawn himself to his full height, attempting to seem intimidating and in control, but his face screams otherwise. His eyes are red rimmed, lips cracked and bitten. His hair is slicked back, as though he had been running his hand through it as a soothing gesture. His clothes were rumpled, like he slept in them. Frankly, he looked awful.
Shane, who had been filling the stunned silence with a play-by-play of one of Scott Hunters old games, stops right in the middle of his sentence, an excited grin blooming on his face.
“Ilya!” He exclaims softly, eyes watering slightly with an unidentifiable emotion. “I knew you would come.”
Rozanov shifts his weight slightly, fidgeting under the gaze of four people, three of them hostile. Shane has no such reservations.
“Hey,” the injured says, “Hey,” he draws out, raising his left arm towards Rozanov. The man hesitates in the doorway, eyes flicking between the three observers.
“Ilya!” He yells, making grabby hands like a child asking for his favorite toy. In response, Rozanov starts softly shushing Shane, crossing the room in frantic strides. He stands on the right side of the bed, body tense. He does not meet anyone’s eyes, instead staring at Shanes outstretched hand like he had no idea what it is.
Impatient, Shane whacks him on the thigh. Rozanov lets out a shaky sigh, then takes Shane’s hand. Her son immediately pulls it towards his injured body.
“Mmm, better,” he hums, relaxing back into the hospital bed. Rozanov’s eyes soften. Yuna can see relief in them as well.
“Okay, what the fuck is going on,” Hayden finally exclaims, voice just the wrong side of loud. Rozanov, to her great surprise, flinches slightly. Shane squeezes his hand in recognition, then turns to his best friend with a shit-eating grin.
“Ilya and I are… wait what are we?” Shane says. Before Rozanov can get a word in, her sons eyes brighten, and he shouts “Lovers!” seemingly completely at ease with the earth shattering statement he just breathed into existence. All three interlopers stare, eyes wide and mouths open. She thinks it is a rather tame reaction to the news that Shane and Rozanov have an explicate relationship to one another.
Rozanov covers his mouth with his free hand, looking away from everyone. Shane grunts at the other man’s attention diverting from him. He pulls Rozanov’s arms with surprising strength, causing the six foot something hockey player to bend dragged down. He has to put his other hand on the opposite side of Shane’s head to avoid falling on the other man.
Shane looks up at Rozanov with a dopey smile. “I love it when you look down on me like this. It makes me feel-“
“Shane!” Rozanov interrupts. Yuna can’t help but be grateful for the Russians outburst. The potential for what her previous son was about to reveal was more than she ever wanted to know. Especially if it involved the guy she thought was everyone least liked hockey player.
“I thought you hated him?” Yuna feels the question slip out without her permission. Still, it feels like a fair inquiry. Rozanov straightens himself, but his grip on her son’s hand remains strong.
“No, actually. I think I actually love him,” Shane says, pulling Rozanov’s hand towards his face.
That statement seems to slash any control Rozanov had been posturing. A single tear drips down his cheek. The hand once holding Shane’s instead reaches for her sons face. He begins lightly tracing his freckles with a reverence she never expected from the man.
Rozanov leans down, clearly trying to keep the words he will say private. But in the quiet, shocked room, only the light beeping from the heart monitor attempts to stifle his words.
“You scared me,” the Russian croaks. Another tear escapes.
“I’m sorry,” Shane pouts, looking upset at how emotional the other is becoming.
“No, no apology,” Rozanov quickly amends. His hand cups Shane’s cheek carefully. Another tear.
“Will you come to my cottage this summer?” Shane blurts out, big smile splitting his face. Rozanov inhales sharply, jolting back a bit. “Don't go to Russia. Come to my house, we will have so much fun. It is so private, no one will know. We can have a week or even two. We will be completely alone, together.”
“Hollander,” Rozanov replies. It sounds closer to a plea than anything. “We-“ his eyes shoot up towards the three of them, panic clear in his eyes.
“You don’t have to say anything now,” Shane continues, ignoring everyone else. “But it would be nice be with you. For real.”
Yuna has absolutely no idea what to do with this information. The intimacy of the moment is palpable. Her son, offering his enemy time in his precious retreat. Where he goes when he wants no one to bother him. David and her are not often asked over, and it is never more than a night.
Hayden lets out a sound that is vaguely offended. Shane turns his head to the three of them, locking eyes with his best friend.
“Sorry, Hayds, someday I’ll have you, Jackie, and the kids over. Maybe this summer as well, so you can meet Ilya. I just need to ask him to be my boyfriend first.”
Rozanov lets out a whimper, cut off midway through as he looks back up nervously. He very quickly everts his eyes, looking back at her son as more tears gather at his waterline.
“You are so stupid,” is the first thing that the other man says. Shane lets out a mildly offended squawk, but the shit-eating grin on his face betrays his joy at the statement.
“That’s not a no!” Shane replied, his voice excited.
Rozanov does not acknowledge the other three in the room. He leans down fully, foreheads touching for a moment, then creating space to look at one another. Rozanov is silently crying, tears steady. But he doesn’t seem to care. He just looks at the other player with a starry gaze.
“Of course I am coming to the cottage,” Rozanov says, smile huge. “There, you can ask best hockey player in the world to be your boyfriend. Maybe he will take pity and say yes.”
“Fuck off, Rozanov,” Shane chirps, “you know for a fact I am the best player.”
“With your backhand?”
“Stop shitting on my backhand, it is perfectly fine.”
“Canada’s golden boy lying to my face?”
“Fuck you, my hockey IQ is higher than yours. You might have power, but your playstyle is sloppy.”
“Oh, I’ll show you sloppy-“
“OKAY!” Hayden shouts, drawing the two out of their back and forth. Rozanov stands up again, no longer a few inches away from kissing her darling son. He at least has the decency to look chastised, a light blush coloring his cheeks.
“Ha, you almost made a joke about giving me a blowjob in front of my parents,” Shane giggles. Rozanov drags a hand down his own face, both in exasperation and a subtle attempt to dry the tear tracks on his cheek.
Yuna has officially had enough. She stands, drawing herself to her full height. It’s nowhere near Rozanov’s hulking frame, but judging by the way his shoulders curl up a bit, she can see the intimidation tactic is working.
“Rozanov, I think it might be time for you to leave,” she says as evenly as she can. She is expecting them to both pout but reluctantly part ways so she can sever whatever crazy relationship this is. What really happens is much stranger.
Her son immediately starts arguing with her. “You don’t decide who stays or goes,” he says, anger clear in his voice, “this is my hospital room, and I want him here. If anything, I think it’s best if you three leave.”
He has never spoken that way to her, ever. She hears David stand next to her, putting his hand on her arm. Her husband looks caught out, confused, and hurt with everything that is happening. Her son, who just took a potentially life ending injury less that 24 hours ago. Her son, high as a kite, with pure contempt in his eyes, aimed at her. Her son, who’s hand is being held to Ilya Rozanov’s chest like a safety blanket. Her son, who notices Rozanov’s behavior, and immediately turns to him, worry sobering him rapidly. She can see the glaze rush off his face, as he takes in the man next to him.
“I can’t leave. Please don’t make me leave,” Rozanov starts talking in rapid Russian, unmoored and panicked. Shane says nothing, only looking the other man in the eye steadily while he has a verbal meltdown at his sickbed. Yuna can only pick out two words- “Shane” and “Mama.”
After probably two minutes of frantic Russian, Rozanov has lost most of the tension in his shoulders. His grip on Shane’s hand is looser, no longer cradling it to his chest like a stuffed toy. He is silent for a moment, then says to Shane, “Okay, I am done.”
Shane has a small, supportive smile on his face. Kindness aimed at the person she thought just hours ago he hated more than anyone else in this world. Clearly, she was very wrong.
“I love you, too.”
Very, very wrong.
Rozanov startles, looking caught out. “How long have you known Russian?” He speaks, slight hysteria returning to his voice.
Shane just cackles in response, tugging Rozanov closer with clear joy. “I didn’t, I just had a feeling you said it. Ha, you love me,” he teases, sticking his tongue out childishly. His rival (Friend? Partner? Lover?) lets out a low laugh, tears welling back into his eyes.
Both of them loose interest in anything that is not one another. They begin bickering, trading chirps and smiles like it is the most normal thing in the world. Yuna supposes, for them, it must be.
She turns away from the spectacle, putting a hand on Hayden’s shoulder to alert him to her presence. He slowly looks towards her, eyes bulging and mouth agape. She takes her husbands hand, then silently begins to walk to the door.
David follows her immediately, with Hayden trailing a bit behind them, trying to hear everything that is happening between the pair. But, finally, they all leave the hospital room and close the door.
No one speaks for a minute, instead looking through the window. They watch as Shane pulls Rozanov towards him, lips pursed in an exaggerated kiss. Rozanov laughs and does not hesitate to dip down and follow his wishes.
“Holy shit,” Hayden says, and Yuna can’t help but agree with him.